What Mad Providence
by positivelymeteoric
Summary: A bunch of little ficlets and stories, mainly Alek/Deryn fluff.
1. After the Storm

**This takes place in the night between the storm and the morning afterwards.**

**Enjoy and please (pretty please with Bovril on top?) review!**

God's wounds, but his head hurt.

It was an inescapable throb of pain, radiating out from his skull into the rest of his body. Alek could feel the ache lie coiled heavily behind his eyelids, a sharp weight refusing to budge.

He forced himself to sit up, the darkened room momentarily spinning around him. As his eyes adjusted, they settled on his flight suit, folded neatly over the edge of a chair, still drenched and dripping water onto a growing puddle on the floor. In the glass of the window by his bed, he caught a glimpse of his face- pale and wan, his head wrapped in a bandage splotched with dried blood.

What happened?

He could remember how the world shrunk to a pinpoint in front of him, everything else a blur of stinging rain and wind and lightning, as he clung to the soaked ratlines, certain beyond all doubt that at any moment his hands would slip and he'd tumble into the unforgiving sea churning below.

He thought back to how the storm clouds appeared so suddenly on the horizon, black as engine grease, how Deryn's face had flickered with fear when she saw the cut on his head, how it had felt when her lips touched his, a warm gentle pressure that-

What?

Alek knew that Dylan was actually Deryn, and that there was a possibility that she had feelings for him that a prince could never have for a commoner, but surely even someone as impulsive and reckless as she was wouldn't do _that_.

_I must've dreamt it_, he told himself, and at first it seemed to be a satisfactory conclusion until he realized that dreaming it would mean that his thoughts recently have been focused around Deryn Sharp and kissing.

Which they haven't, of course. After all, providence was guiding him towards peace treaties and thrones, not the heart of some mad Scottish girl.

Right?

Alone in the dark of the stateroom, Alek's face burned a bright red.

With a sigh, he gingerly arranged himself back onto his pillows. He needed sleep. In the morning, he'd have to face Volger's plotting and visits from the _Leviathan's _doctors and wooing Tesla and all the other myriad little problems that seemed to rest now on Aleksandar of Hohenberg's shoulders.

But for now, he could sleep as best as one could with a fresh head wound, knowing how lucky he was to have escaped with just that, and with the feeling of Deryn's mouth still lingering on his.

And (although he'd never admit it to anyone and especially not _her_), perhaps a kiss was worth getting bumped on the head.


	2. At the Edge of the Bed

**This is supposed to be one of the nights after Deryn's fall in Mexico.**

**Enjoy! Reviews would be super super awesome!**

It was the pain that woke her- a sharp, angry thing that seemed to have a life of its own, buzzing angrily inside of her leg.

Deryn rolled over onto her side, her hands balled into fists, teeth biting down into her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Blisters, it hurt.

When the throbbing seemed to have subsided, at least for the time being, she stretched her legs out again, slowly, carefully. Her feet slid over the cool of her sheets and then brushed against something warm and solid.

Barking spiders, what was at the end of her bed?

Deryn peered up from underneath her blankets. It was Alek, slumped against the wall, head tucked into his chest, knees splayed out, and snoring loud enough to wake a kraken.

Of course. He'd been perched on the edge of her bed all that evening, trying his best to keep her mind off the ache in her leg and the fact that her days left aboard the _Leviathan_ were numbered. She must've fallen asleep in the middle of one of his stories about his childhood at Konopiste, and the oblivious _Dummkopf _hadn't even noticed.

She smiled, in spite of herself. Barking daft princes.

Her smile faded when she realized what Volger would have to say when he realized Alek hadn't slept in his own stateroom- something sneakily cruel, probably, about princes who fell in love with common girls.

Not, of course, that they'd even _done _anything that evening to earn that comment, though Deryn wouldn't have minded a squick. Alek had seen to that, with his mad notions of popes and providence pulling him back towards Austria-Hungary, away from the _Leviathan_, away from her.

Deryn sighed, almost wishing that the pain was back again to drive out all of this blether. There was no good coming of it. He might've learned her last secret during the storm, but the kiss had opened up a final, impassable gulf between them, something acknowledged only when their eyes met for a moment too long.

Blisters, wasn't having no secrets supposed to make everything less barking _complicated_?

She lowered her head back onto her pillow, hoping for at least a few hours more of restless sleep. As she did so, she accidentally gave Alek a solid kick, causing him to jump in his sleep.

As he settled himself back down into his curled up perch, he whispered something between snores, so quietly that Deryn wasn't even sure if he had said it all.

But he had and the word burned itself into her mind like a brand, the sound of it crackling along her skin.

"Deryn."

He said it again, clearer this time, and she wished more than ever that she could see inside of that daft Clanker brain of his to see what exactly what it was his dreams consisted of.

She had a sneaking suspicion that they were the same as hers.


	3. Torn in Two

**So as I read Goliath, I couldn't help but wonder about what was going through Bovril's mind when Deryn and Alek weren't speaking to each other. So this is my best attempt to write in loris-speech :)**

**Review and enjoy!**

Bovril is not pleased.

The boy has realized that the boy-who-is-not-a-boy is not _Mr_. Sharp, but actually Deryn Sharp. Bovril can't help but feel a bit disappointed at how much help it needed to give the boy with this- he's nothing like than the girl, who is clever and shrewd and far quicker to see things as they are. _She_ knew what it meant as soon as she heard it call her _Mr_. Sharp.

Bovril likes the boy-who-is-not-a-boy for that.

But now, the boy (who, in private, the girl calls a _Dummkopf_, which Bovril thinks is all too correct) and the-boy-who-is-really-a-girl aren't speaking. It seems that the _Dummkopf_ has discovered what Bovril has known for its whole life.

He really is daft (another word it learned from _Mr._ Sharp to describe the boy).

And it seems to Bovril that now he's only proving his daftness by being (and then another phrase from the girl, something she whispers to Bovril angrily in the few moments that they have alone together now that the boy and the girl are no longer speaking) an absolute bum-rag about the whole situation.

Because Bovril's whole world has tipped upside down since the night with the boy and the newspaper. Once, it felt a happy sort of contentment with its life: it had its boy and its boy-who-is-not a boy and they were friends, and Bovril learned semaphore signals from the girl and ate strawberries bought by the boy.

But something happened when they left Bovril behind in the mess hall, something that left a feeling between them that made Bovril feel prickly and nervous and uncomfortable.

And so now, Bovril sits on the edge of the boy's bed, watching him pace the length of his room and mutter German words that Bovril hasn't been taught, words that have a harsh, jagged edge to them. Mixed in with the unknown words is the name of the girl, said with an unhappy sort of whisper that makes Bovril feel as if its world is being torn in two.

Bovril curls into a ball, trying to sleep. It heard from the conversations between the doctor and the man with the mustache that tomorrow morning they'll find themselves in Japan.

Perhaps tomorrow, the boy and the girl will find themselves at peace with each other too.

Bovril gives a contented noise. That would be positively meteoric.


	4. Shuffle Part 1

**So I decided to do the iPod shuffle challenge. Try not to judge the incredibly corny title of this chapter and the absurd amount of Disney music I listen to :D**

**Reviews would be super fantastically awesome!**

* * *

><p><strong>1. "Story of Us" – Taylor Swift<strong>

He hadn't expected it to be this hard, this first breakfast on this first morning in this brand new world where boys were girls and best friends were liars. But it was awful, sitting across from him- no, _her_ at the table in the middy's mess, watching her swipe Newkirk's potatoes and sip her coffee, so dreadfully calm, all the while knowing that she had lied to him from the start.

He couldn't help but wonder if last night had left the same hideous jagged feeling inside of her as well, like being some broken mechanikal part badly repaired, ready to shatter at a moment's notice. But there was no way to ask. Their story was over, it seemed, and it appeared that it had been doomed to be a tragedy from the start.

* * *

><p><strong>2. "A Girl Worth Fighting For" –Mulan<strong>

"Do you have a girl, Dylan, back in Glasgow?" The question caught her by surprise, Alek's voice drifting across the empty darkness of the spare room they slept in in the warehouses of the Committee.

"Er- no," she said, wondering where he was getting at with this. Barking spiders, what was she supposed to _say_?

"That'd be nice to have though. A girl that was worth fighting in this war for, don't you think?" Alek's voice sounded annoyingly wistful and she scoffed.

"Sure, I suppose. As long as she had half a brain and didn't act like a barking _ninny_. I'd want a girl who speaks her mind, someone who's not afraid of life."

Alek laughed.

"Like Lilit, you mean?" Even though he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes.

"Sure, _Dummkopf_. Like Lilit."

* * *

><p><strong>3. "Do Wah Doo" –Kate Nash<strong>

_I don't care if we're just friends_. Because she didn't, right? That's what she had been telling herself since Istanbul, since she knew that as long as Alek held on to that barking scroll, there'd never be a chance for her. She didn't care if Alek would never see her as anything other than Dylan, his best friend, the brilliant airman, the boy who was common as dirt. It wouldn't matter, as long as she got to be around him. She didn't care about only being friends.

Then why did this hurt so much?

* * *

><p><strong>4. "Dashboard" –Modest Mouse<strong>

The impact shook the cabin of the walker, jarring his bones and causing him to tumble into the hard embrace of the floor. He sat up dizzily, rubbing his head and feeling the tender spots that he knew would erupt into purple and blue splotches of bruises the next morning.

Deryn had managed to stay in her seat, still holding onto the controls and laughing, as if crashing a walker was some sort of mad adventure for her. He stood up shakily, noting that she had managed somehow to completely unhinge the viewport so that it refused to close, providing an unobstructed view of the fields below. Deryn gestured towards it. "Well, at least now we have some fresh air."

Alek regretted teaching his wife how to pilot.

* * *

><p><strong>5. "Status Quo" – Cast of Starship<strong>

She hesitated only for a moment in front of the mirror, gripping her mother's sewing scissors in one hand, her braid in the other. But that was where it started, with hesitation, and it would only lead to backing out, to agreeing to spend her life with a cooking pan in one hand and a sewing needle, forever stuck on the ground. Hesitation was the coward's way out, and Deryn Sharp was no coward.

_Snip._

The braid fell onto the floor with a soft _thump_ and she grinned madly as she snipped, shearing away Deryn and leaving Dylan in her place. She refused to accept the destiny waiting for her. Instead she would write her own, leave her mark on the world for all to see.

When the last wisps of hair were gone, she left her room.

She had a train to catch.

* * *

><p><strong>6. "Nightmares" –Chameleon Circuit<strong>

Alek woke to a knock on his stateroom door, a soft sniffling noise coming from the other side. When he opened it, Deryn was standing there, her eyes rimmed with red, face glazed with tears that she was stubbornly trying to wipe away.

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered, hands balled into fists by her side. He knew better than that, knew that she had been dreaming of her father again.

He led her in, shut the door quietly behind him, had her sit on his bed. They sat in silence for a moment, facing each other.

Since finding out her secret, he had felt utterly helpless. He couldn't help her protect her identity, awful liar that he was, and he couldn't return her feelings, not with a throne waiting for him back in Austria-Hungary.

But he could do this.

He put his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder, tears soaking into his nightshirt, until her shudders subsided.

"Thank you," she whispered, slipping off the bed and padding silently back towards her cabin.

Maybe he wasn't such a waste of hydrogen after all.

* * *

><p><strong>7. "Makes Me Wonder" –Maroon 5<strong>

He had to wonder, after everything that had happened, what had been true and what had been a lie.

She had deceived him about being a girl after all- who knew what else could've been untrue? Who was to say that she hadn't been lying from the start, pretending to care, to be his friend?

_It wouldn't surprise me_, he thought bitterly.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. Couldn't he for once have someone who wasn't trying to kill him or manipulate him or deceive him?

No, life wasn't fair at all.

* * *

><p><strong>8. "Have I the Right" –Vampire Weekend<strong>

He only stopped to think for a moment, a niggling sense of propriety drilled into him from a lifetime of etiquette lessons holding him back. Wasn't it improper to kiss a lady without asking her first?

But he knew that no sense of decorum and manners would've stopped her. Besides, he was getting that feeling again as he looked at her, like the world had turned upside down.

God's wounds, he didn't care who was watching. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in.

* * *

><p><strong>9. "Friend Like Me" – Aladdin<strong>

"Dylan, a-are you sure this is _allowed_?" Alek's face below her was pale and worried in the dark, and from her perch on the ladder, Deryn grinned.

"Alek, they won't notice that we've pinched a few things from the galley. Live a little, _Dummkopf_."

Alek muttered something nervously in German, something about never having stolen before.

"There's a first time for everything, Clanker. Besides, you've never had a friend like me."

* * *

><p><strong>10. "I Wanna Be Like You" –The Jungle Book<strong>

"-and so after I managed to save the Huxley from the storm, I free ballooned across the Channel until the Leviathan picked me up. Pure dead brilliant, it was." Dylan finished his story, lying back against the membrane of the _Leviathan _with a satisfied sigh.

Alek smiled, though he could feel jealousy twisting his insides. Dylan always had such adventures while Alek was too cautious, made friends even when he didn't speak the language while Alek held back awkwardly, barged in loud and reckless and confident even when he knew he was wrong while Alek was always nervous and careful. Dylan did everything with a sort of gleeful, glorious extravagance, whereas Alek was always the tense, stuffed up prince.

He'd give anything to be like him.

**Review please?**


	5. The Best Laid Plans

**Sorry for not updating in ages- oh the stress of senior year :/**

**But I get to go see Scott Westerfeld at one of his tour events soon! Yay!**

**Reviews would, as always, be supermegafoxyawesomehot.**

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go askew." -Robert Burns

He had never liked weddings.

This one was no exception. In fact, this one was perhaps the very epitome of everything he hated about weddings.

But Volger had promised Alek he'd be there, and he could do this one simple thing for the son of his old friend. He hadn't been able to secure Alek the throne, but he could do this.

But really, out of all the young ladies in Europe, did it have to be _her_?

The wedding march began and from behind him he could hear the groan of the church doors opening and the sudden rustle of fabric and the creak of the pews as the crowd stood up to face the bride.

"Your Highness," he whispered in Alek's ear, "Are you sure that this is the best decision? It's still not too late to forget this little dalliance with a commoner ever happened."

Next to him, Alek rolled his eyes. He always complained when Volger insisted on calling him by his title.

"We're all commoners now," he would always say, looking far too proud about the fact.

_Commoners_. Volger shuddered. The word even _sounded _grubby.

"You swore you'd be polite, Count." Alek's tone was light, but there was a steely undercurrent behind it.

It was true. The only thing keeping him from forcibly dragging the ex-prince out of the church was his promise to Nora that morning that he'd behave.

Next to him, the girl's brother (Jim? Jaspert? Some odd Scottish name, to be certain) scowled and looked at them suspiciously.

"Would you two quit it with that Clanker talk?"

Volger coughed, trying to mask his distaste.

It seemed that the best laid plans did really did go askew. He and Franz had agonizingly planned Alek's ascent to the throne for years only to have him throw it all away into the Hudson River over a _girl._

Had it been worth anything at all?

By this time, the bride had reached the altar, escorted by her mother. It was the first time Volger had ever seen the girl in a dress and it looked stiff and out of place on her.

But Alek didn't seem to think so. His smile stretched wide across his cheeks, spreading out to those ridiculous ears of his, and for a moment it was not his face that Ernst Volger saw.

It was Franz's.

It was the same look that Volger had seen all those years ago when he stood in the same exact position, a groomsman for a different archduke at a different wedding so very long ago. The absurd idiotic expression, those ridiculous, mooning eyes that wayward Hapsburg princes had seemingly perfected in the hopes of ruining Volger's plans, all repeated again, as if passed down from father to son. It was ridiculous.

And yet-

And yet, Alek had never looked that happy back in Austria-Hungary. Volger was suddenly reminded of what Franz had truly wanted: for Alek to take the throne, yes, but above all for Alek not just to survive but to live, to be happy.

And it seemed that this girl, low-born as she may be, did that for him.

It was worth it then, he supposed, to put up with mad commoners and empty thrones, if it meant seeing the boy happy.

And so, Volger whispered his blessing into the boy's ear, and smiled and applauded along with the rest of the church when the priest announced Alek and Deryn as man and wife.

He caught Nora's eye, and she nodded her approval.

Perhaps this bit of going askew was his best laid plan yet.

**Review please?**


	6. The Green Eyed Monster

**I got a chance to see Scott Westerfeld on tour this week and it was absolutely amazingly awesome. He was super nice and I got my whole trilogy signed. I wrote this on the train ride home from the event while ridiculously caffeinated after drinking a massive coffee so sorry for the lack of plot/any sense of coherence whatsoever :/**

**So I was wondering if anyone had any requests for anything they'd like to see in this little series? I'd be super excited to take any of them, including stuff that's two or three chapters. If you've got anything, leave it in the reviews or PM me!**

**As always, reviews make the world just a little more awesome :)**

"What's going on between you and Aleksandar, Dylan?"

Lilit's question made Deryn jump, causing her to drop half the tray of type into the dust of the courtyard.

_Barking spiders._

It was only mid-morning in Istanbul, the sun little more than a faint suggestion hidden by the fog from the harbor, but already it was barking _hot_.

Of course, the fact that her cheeks were now burning red didn't help with the heat.

"We're- we're friends," she said, bending down to pick up pieces of type.

What was the lass trying to get at with this?

Deryn had felt on edge from the moment she'd come to Istanbul. It was all so foreign, so uncomfortably alien to her- the stuffy decadence of Alek's hotel room, the constant snarl of machinery, the permanent slick of engine grease that seemed to cover her hands and face, seeping underneath her nails and into the ridges of her knuckles, even after she'd scrubbed her hands red every night.

It appeared that some things were impossible to wash away.

Including, it seemed, jealousy.

She'd tried to ignore it at first, stuff it down along with the rest of her feelings about Alek. It wasn't just unsoldierly. Here in Istanbul, where there were possible enemies around every corner, it was barking _dangerous_, having her attic all muddled up with blether about runaway archdukes instead of being on the lookout for German spies.

But over time it had crept back up again, unavoidable and stronger than ever, like feeling lightning sputter along an airship's skin, knowing that you were powerless to stop it.

It would've been easier, Deryn supposed, if Lilit had just been some empty-headed ninny, good for nothing but filling silence with blether about fashion and society gossip. But of course, Lilit was as good with a knife as Deryn was, and brilliant with machines and politics and etiquette.

It seemed that Lilit had all the sorts of adventures that Deryn wanted, but as a proper girl, without having to spin a complicated web of lies to the ones she trusted most. And of course, _she _knew all about politics and culture. She and Alek would have long discussions into the night about the tangled knot of alliances that had led to this war, while Deryn sat to the side, feeling cast out and common as dirt.

"Friends? So you'd say that you trust him with all of your secrets?" Lilit's voice snapped her back to reality.

Deryn felt a shiver of fear in her stomach, and for a moment, she was afraid that her legs would fall out from underneath her, leaving her sprawled in the ground like the tray of type. She was unpleasantly reminded of Volger's blackmail before she'd left the _Leviathan_.

"Aye," she replied, trying to keep her voice from quavering. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," said Lilit all too lightly. Now she was the one who was blushing, avoiding Deryn's eyes.

"Fah!" said Bovril from Deryn's shoulder in a perfect imitation of Zaven.

Deryn rolled her eyes, leaving the courtyard to go search out Alek. Time with him always seemed to clear her head and cast away the resentful feelings she felt whenever Lilit was around. She'd drag him out into the city today so that they could have another grand adventure together, just the two of them with no meddlesome third part to spoil things. She grinned.

Jealousy could wait just a squick.

**Review please?**


	7. Shuffle Part 2

**I was bored out of mind in study hall so…short shuffle challenge! Again!**

**Also again if anyone has requests for something they'd like to see in this little series leave it in the reviews or PM me.**

**And if anyone does NaNoWriMo, add me as a writing buddy (whenever they get it working again)! My username is fezzesarecool :)**

**And of course, your reviews kinda sorta always make my day.**

* * *

><p><strong>1. "Viva la Vida"- Coldplay<strong>

The world could've been his.

Alek sat in the hushed silence of the library, tracing with his fingers the lines of ink marking what he would've ruled- here were the Alps and there was Budapest and Vienna and Prague, only tiny dots of black on the map, but filled with thousands of his would-be subjects.

He could've been a good ruler, perhaps even a great one. He could've been the emperor that his father should've been.

And yet-

He glanced over next to him, where Deryn was sketching the other patrons of the library in the margins of her book, chair tipped back dangerously far. She must've seen him watching her out of the corner of his eye, because she twisted around to face him, the edges of her mouth turning ever so slightly upwards.

"Is there something you want, _Dummkopf_?"

And at the sound of her voice, he remembered why he had thrown the world away.

* * *

><p><strong>2. "I Won't Say I'm in Love" –Hercules<strong>

It was barking hard, keeping up two deceptions at once.

It was one thing to keep a secret from everyone around you, but another thing entirely to keep one from yourself. She'd grown used to acting as a boy. In fact she enjoyedit, all the spitting and swearing and climbing. It was glorious.

But her other secret had a nasty habit of popping up whenever he walked by, bringing with it a head filled with jumbled thoughts that a _boy_ would never have and a nervous, fluttery feeling that made it feel as though the ground had just dropped out beneath her feet.

She could never give up her deceptions- the first because it would get her thrown out of the Air Service, the second because admitting it to herself would make it real.

And real was dangerous. Real was serious. Real meant she could get hurt.

She refused to believe she was in love.

* * *

><p><strong>3. "Good Morning Good Morning" –The Beatles<strong>

"Good morning."

This didn't get quite the result that Bovril wanted. Its boy and its girl still insisted on staying asleep, tangled together underneath the layers of blankets.

Perhaps switching to German would work? It tried again.

"_Guten morgen_."

But the only response it got was the boy's snoring getting louder as he rolled over in his sleep.

This was really quite frustrating.

Suddenly, Bovril had the most spectacular idea.

"Good morning, Aleksandar, _Mr_. Sharp."

Its girl jolted suddenly out of sleep, head swinging wildly around the room. Bovril scampered under the covers, trying to be unseen.

"Blisters, Alek, wake up. I could've sworn I just heard Volger."

The boy's head had emerged from beneath the blankets, looking blearily at the girl, and then giving a sleepy smile.

"Deryn, _liebling_, don't frighten me like that."

From under the sheets, Bovril snickered.

* * *

><p><strong>4. "If It Kills Me" –Jason Mraz<strong>

He had to have figured it out by now.

Really, there was no way even a complete and utter _Dummkopf_ like him couldn't see it. It had to be spelled out across her face every time she saw him.

Barking spiders, even _Volger _knew.

Daft prince indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>5. "Songs of Love" –Ben Folds<strong>

Volger watched the two of them together at dinner, sitting far enough apart so that they would still seem to be just two boys, but nevertheless oblivious to anything besides each other.

_All rather sickening_, he thought darkly to himself.

"Ernst," said Nora next to him, swatting at his arm. "Be kind."

Goodness, had he said that out loud?

"Besides," she continued, watching the pair burst into laughter at some unheard joke, "it's only young love. It's hardly the most harmful thing in the world, and it seems to be doing Aleksandar a great deal of good."

Volger sighed, turning his attention back around to his roast beef.

He'd had enough lovesick princes to last him a lifetime.

**Review please?**


	8. Late

**Newkirk may just be one of my favorite side characters, so this is just him post-Goliath. Slightly out of canon but oh well. **

**Enjoy!**

Something strange was happening on the _Leviathan _and no one seemed inclined to tell Newkirk what.

The first time that Sharp had been late for watch, he'd brushed it off. After all, the lad _had _just nearly fallen to his death in Mexico.

The second time around, he was confused. It wasn't like Sharp to be late, and besides it only meant more time that Newkirk had to stay up on the freezing topside of the ship, where he was probably going to get windburnt and come down with pneumonia, like his mum had always warned.

By the third time, he was downright suspicious.

He'd been on his way back to his bunk when he heard a voice coming from Sharp's cabin.

_Was that-?_

But it couldn't be. There weren't any _girls _aboard the _Leviathan_, with the exception of the doctor, who Newkirk was mildly terrified of.

He heard another voice muffled behind the door, one that was switching from German to English.

But what was the bloody _prince_ doing in Sharp's cabin with someone who may or may not be a girl?

Newkirk sighed and kept going down the hallway.

Strange indeed.

**Review please?**


	9. Honeymoon

**For Sadie Kane, who requested to see Alek and Dern on their honeymoon. Thank you so much for being so patient with the amount of time this took! I hope you enjoy it!**

**Also, thank you so much to Fox Scarlen for beta reading this :)**

**I'd be more than happy to take more requests for pretty much anything, though I won't be getting them done until after November because of NaNoWriMo (my username is fezzesarecool, if you want to be writing buddies!) But I lovelovelove getting requests so feel free :)**

**Enjoy!**

When Alek had pictured his honeymoon, he hadn't quite pictured this.

He'd imagined him and Deryn in some romantic locale- Paris, perhaps, or maybe Venice. They'd see the sights, and take long walks through the streets of some foreign city holding hands, and spend an absurd amount of time kissing. He would make sure that Deryn had the honeymoon of a lifetime.

But of course, _this _had happened.

_Perhaps it had all been doomed from the start_, he pondered as he picked his way across the uneven ground, keeping an eye on the flickering orange light of Deryn's torch up ahead. _After all, this honeymoon _was_ financed by Barlow._

The lady doctor had offered to pay for the honeymoon, as a wedding gift and as recompense for the past five years. It seemed at first to be an overly generous gift, but after all, the missions for the Zoological Society had taken their toll- he had a long, wickedly curved scar on his back from a swordfight in the jungles of Peru, and Deryn had reinjured her knee when they had been in the Arctic.

Yet when she announced they'd be traveling to Luxor, his heart had sunk a little. He'd had his heart set on somewhere a little less…_dusty_, somewhere with art galleries and restaurants that served caviar and required men to wear tuxedos.

Nevertheless, Deryn had given a wild whoop of excitement. She'd been enthralled with Egypt ever since Howard Carter's discovery of Tutankhamen's tomb had made headlines across the world. Alek hadn't. The whole idea of it- royalty dying young under mysterious circumstances, cursed tombs, made him shiver.

But it didn't matter if he didn't get his way, right? Wasn't that what marriage was supposed to be- a constant flow of give and take, compromises and sacrifice, choosing another person's happiness over your own? Besides, he was with Deryn, who had finally, _finally_ agreed to marry him, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Well, that and finding a way out of this godforsaken tomb.

"Deryn," Alek said, squinting to try and find her in the gloom, "Are you sure we're going the right way? I could've sworn we passed by these hieroglyphics fifteen minutes ago."

From up ahead, he could hear Deryn's familiar laugh. Of course, getting lost in a three thousand year old tomb was just one giant lark to her.

"Don't be daft, Alek. We'll be fine. I know where I'm going, so stop worrying."

He sighed.

They hadn't meant to break off from the rest of the tour group. Alek had been perfectly content following along with the rest of the tourists, mostly plump, middle-aged couples from Britain or America, and listening to the drone of their guide's voice. But all of a sudden, as they turned the corner into a chamber with hieroglyphics made with daubs of red and blue paint covering the walls, Deryn had grabbed his arm and pulled him down another corridor.

"What are you doi-"

His answer had been cut off by the sudden, warm pressure of her lips against his, and suddenly he didn't care much about hieroglyphics at all.

When they finally managed to break away from each other, they turned to go back into the room, shamefaced and with rumpled clothing, to find that their group had disappeared.

"Don't worry," Deryn had said, "I can probably figure out how to find them again."

An hour and a half later, they were still hopelessly lost.

"We'll never find our way out," Alek groaned, slumping against the cool stone of a wall. "We'll be trapped down here forever and no one will find us or notice that we're missing. God's wounds, the papers will have a field day with this one- the former heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne and a decorated airman die on their honeymoon in a pharaoh's tomb. I can practically see Malone drooling over this headline."

Deryn sat down beside him, and gave him a solid punch in the shoulder.

"Stop being dramatic, _Dummkopf_. We're not going to _die _down here."

Alek was about to open his mouth to argue when Deryn craned her head forward into the shadows, then started up.

"There's a light up ahead!"

Before he could respond, she was off, sprinting at a breakneck pace towards whatever it was that she saw.

He began to run after her, and suddenly he could see it too- a door up ahead, the inside illuminated with the familiar green radiance of glow worm lamps. From inside came the soft murmur of voices.

Alek felt a wild burst of hope, stopped suddenly by fear. He'd heard stories on the streets of Luxor about the unsavory types who snuck into tombs- vandals, tomb robbers, and worse.

"Deryn!" he hissed, trying to stop her before she got any further away. God's wounds, why couldn't she just _think _sometimes before blindly plunging into things?

But she was already gone, disappearing behind the door.

He stood there for a long minute, alone in the shadows, then began to make his way towards the door. When he reached it, he stopped and waited again for another long while.

_No turning back now, I suppose. Besides, I'm doing this for Deryn._

He braced himself as he entered the chamber, expecting to feel the cold of a thief's knife against his throat.

_I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to-_

But instead, he found himself facing a room of very puzzled looking-

_God's wounds, are those archaeologists?_

Well, that was embarrassing.

They looked at him curiously, as if he were some piece of ancient pottery that they had just discovered. Deryn was sitting cross-legged on the ground, already in mid-conversation with someone sketching the tomb, trying to stifle a laugh at his discomfort.

He cleared his throat, his face burning red.

"My apologies. I'm Aleksandar von Hohenberg, and I can see you've met my wife, Deryn."

One of the archaeologists, a broad shouldered man with a bristling mustache and a tattered jacket covered with dust, laughed.

"Not a problem, lad," he said, holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Howard Carter, archaeologist. This one here has been telling us all about your honeymoon. How on earth did you two manage to stumble into the tomb of King Tut?"

Alek's face flushed again, his hand aching from Carter's crushing grip.

"Er. Um. Well. We were with a tour group, and we got d-distracted and we got lost. We were just trying to find a way out."

Deryn was openly laughing now as she watched him stammer over his words.

Carter laughed again. He had a booming voice, one that seemed loud enough to wake the pharaohs.

"No worries, Hohenberg. I'll have Bethell, my secretary, show you out."

As they walked back through the dark, following the green light of Bethell's lamp, Alek felt someone squeeze his hand.

"Don't worry," Deryn said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm having a lovely honeymoon."

Alek smiled to himself.

Paris and Venice could wait.

He had everything he needed right here.

**Please review!**


	10. Influenza

**In Anatomy, we watched a film about the Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918 which killed somewhere between 50 and 100 million people worldwide, many of them young and healthy and not the type normally susceptible to the flu.**

**So, I wrote this both while bored in class and as a distraction from NaNoWriMo.**

**Enjoy! Reviews are absolutely stupendous!**

* * *

><p>Her forehead is blazingly hot to the touch and her coughs are deep and pained sounding, rattling relentlessly in the cramped hospital room, echoing off the bare walls.<p>

He holds out the bowl of watery broth that the nurse had given him in the hopes of getting her to eat something.

"Deryn, you haven't eaten in nearly a day. Do it for me. Please, _liebling_."

On the last word, his voice betrays him and breaks and he stubbornly swipes at his tears, trying to pretend that he's not afraid.

That, of course, isn't true at all. The brave one is lying beneath him in a hospital bed, fighting for every breath.

The doctor had called it the Spanish influenza and it seemed that those two little words were all anyone ever talked about these days. Row upon row of beds were filled with the sick and dying and every morning the papers would be filled with headlines reporting how many had died the previous day.

But neither of them could've gotten it, right? They were young, they were healthy, they were in the prime of life.

He had been so wrong.

It had started with a cough that she had brushed off. It escalated into a fever, her skin cold and clammy to the touch, her body shaking and shivering. When she had nearly collapsed on the street, he had insisted on dragging her to the hospital.

It seemed that all of their mad dreams had been put on hold. He could feel the weight in the pocket of his trousers- a small box with a ring inside of it.

He'd been planning to propose that week. Before this all had happened, his biggest worry had been whether or not she'd say yes.

Now he was worried if he'd ever get the chance to ask at all.

**Please review!**


	11. Recovery

**Thank you guys so so so so SO much for over 50 reviews! You're all so great and sweet and generally all-around awesome and lovely!**

**As my way of thanking you, I'm continuing the last chapter, which was supposed to be a one-shot, but you guys all seem to want more so here you go :D**

**(Any my apologies for the ridiculously fluffy, cheesy ending line.)**

**Also, I'm open for requests, so if there's anything you'd like to see, then let me know in the reviews or PM me.**

**As always, reviews are super super great!**

* * *

><p>After the fourth day, her fever breaks.<p>

She wakes in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room and it takes her a long minute to recall what happened.

But then she remembers in a sudden rush the last week- the sudden, violent cough, the burning, sputtering feeling in her lungs. She doesn't remember much after arriving to the hospital. The past four days are a blur of feverish dreams and fighting for air.

And pain. Pain like nothing she's ever felt before- a blazing, snarling thing that had seemed intent on burning her alive until nothing remained.

She sits up gingerly, painfully aware of her aching body and pounding head. She blinks, trying to adjust to the dim light of glow worm lamps that swing overhead, giving everything in the long hospital ward a washed out green pallor.

She realizes then that there's a figure slumped in a chair next to her bed.

Blisters, has he been there for the past four days? He looks like it- dark circles ring his eyes and his face is covered with several days' worth of stubble.

Doesn't he realize how contagious everyone in this ward was? Just by staying by her side, he could've gotten sick and she knew she'd never _ever _be able to forgive herself for that. Barking spiders, what was he _thinking_?

_Daft boy. _

She looks down at her lap, realizes that he's fallen asleep with one of his hands loosely entangled with hers.

In his other hand, he has a tiny gray box. Her common sense tells her that she probably shouldn't open it- she _knows _she probably shouldn't open it, but since when does she listen to her common sense?

She gently slips the box out of his hand and gives a sharp intake of breath as she opens it, dropping it onto the bed.

Was that-?

It couldn't be.

But the flash of diamond and gold is unmistakable, and she sinks back down onto her pillows, feeling faint for a whole new reason.

She rolls back over onto her side, trying to go back to sleep. She supposes she should still be a little worried- though the worse of the illness may be over, she's still weak and shaky, a shadow of her former self.

But she's not.

Because she knows that tomorrow morning, and every morning for the rest of her life, he'll be there.

**Review please?**


	12. Across the Breakfast Table

**Hi! So I finally had the chance to write something OTHER than my NaNo novel (I won by writing 15,000 words somehow on the last day. I still don't know how I was able to.)**

**It's supposed to take place after Behemoth but before Goliath during the two weeks when they're just traveling across Russia on the Leviathan, and it's a little out of canon, especially from Alek's perspective, but I really really wanted to write it.**

**Enjoy! And reviews would be fantastically lovely!**

He slides into his usual seat in the middies' mess. Dylan gives him a sleepy nod and goes back to picking at his potatoes.

Alek fiddles with the cream and sugar, but he's not paying attention and without even realizing it, he pours salt into his coffee.

His mind's in another place entirely and he doesn't even notice Dylan's disgusted glances at his mug, though he does notice Dylan.

But that's the problem isn't it? And God's wounds, what a problem it is.

Because it's not right for a boy, especially one who will be an emperor someday, to have feelings like this for his friend. Stirring, nasty, embarrassing feelings that turn his mind into a nervous frenzy whenever Dylan's around and wake him up in the night, face blushing red in the darkness from dreams he feels ashamed of come morning.

_Gottverdammt_, this is bad, very, very bad.

He'll have to hide how he feels, bury it down in the same place where he buries his apprehension about taking the throne and his grief about his parents.

No one could ever know. Volger certainly wouldn't be happy. With Alek's commoner lineage, it would be struggle enough to take the throne. The fact that he was interested in boys, not girls, would only make it worse.

Well not boys. A boy, one singular, marvelous boy. God's wounds, Dylan probably wouldn't even be _interested _in him, much less able to fall in love with him. He remembers with a sinking feeling Dylan's fling with Lilit in Istanbul. Inwardly, Alek groans.

_Dummkopf._

And so he sips his salted coffee and laughs politely at Newkirk's terrible jokes even though inside him, his mind is a muddled mess and his heart is a broken, bruised thing.

But no one must know.

* * *

><p>Deryn watches as Alek slips into the seat across from her at the breakfast table.<p>

He looks barking awful, his eyes ringed with dark circles, his hair mussed and sticking up in all directions, making her want to reach across the table and fix it for him.

She doesn't, of course, because to him she's Dylan, not Deryn. Dylan can't fix his friend's hair. Dylan can't meet Alek's eyes, at least not in the way that she wants to.

And Dylan can never have Alek's love.

Deryn sighs, returning back to attacking her potatoes. Blisters, but Alek must be tired, because the _Dummkopf_ has just emptied half the salt shaker into his coffee and is sipping it with a glazed, faraway look in his eye.

She gags and pulls a face, trying to get his attention, but he doesn't respond.

It would all be so much barking easier if she could just tell him. True, he'd be upset at first, but it would fade as he stopped sulking and she wouldn't have to be a liar to her best friend any longer.

_Though of course_, she muses, _best friends don't normally want to kiss their best friends._

She puts a forkful of eggs in her mouth, chewing slowly while trying to imagine what telling Alek her other secret would be like, the secret that makes her act like a ninny and go half mad with jealousy. Would things become awful and broken between them, two pieces of a puzzle that had once fit together perfectly, but were now bent out of shape, unrecognizable and broken beyond all repair?

Deryn shudders. It's a possibility too awful to comprehend.

No, no one must ever know.

**Review please?**


	13. New Year's Eve

**Hi! Sorry for not updating in forever, but with school/the holidays/procrastination, it's been tough to update. But here's something finally!**

**Enjoy!**

****(Also "_Prosit Neujahr"- _Happy New Year)****

* * *

><p>Through the arched windows of the hotel room, deep blue snatches of night sky were visible. Here in London, the stars weren't dimmed by the harsh glare of electrikal lights, but tonight they were positively put to shame by the fireworks. The sky was erupting in brilliant sunbursts in every color imaginable- scarlets and blues, deep greens and purples, pale silver and blazing gold.<p>

You could say what you wanted to about the British, but their fireworks were certainly magnificent.

Alek moved the ottoman he was perched on closer to the windowsill, pressing his nose against the cold of the glass to get a better look. He could just make out the forms of the people in the crowds gathered in the streets below and, if he squinted, he could see Big Ben several streets over, its face lit up bright against the darkness. If he could trust what he could see of its hands, it was three minutes until midnight.

"Deryn, are you sure you don't want to come see the fireworks? After all, this is your only chance until next New Year's Eve."

Deryn, of course, chose to ignore him in favor of flopping down onto his bed with a theatrical sigh.

"I'm sorry, you know," he continued, even though she was doing her best to appear as though she couldn't hear him. "This wasn't really how I wanted tonight to go."

She had been sulking for the better part of the evening. That night at dinner, Volger had flatly refused to let them go out and celebrate New Year's in the crowd.

"Please," he had said derisively, looking down imperiously at the two of them over the rim of his wine glass. "I'm not sure which one of you would be worse to let loose on the streets during the rowdiest night of the year. One would start a fistfight and the other would get as frightened as a girl the second some drunken reveler knocked into them. I'm feeling positively ill just thinking about it."

Alek hadn't bothered asking which one would be the girl.

Deryn had, of course, let out a volume of complaints about this, which she had finished off with a long string of curses that had left even Volger sputtering on his drink.

She wasn't even supposed to be _in _here. About an hour after dinner, Volger had appeared in the doorway of Alek's hotel room.

"I'm leaving for the Zoological Society's New Year's party. You and Miss Sharp were invited but I felt it would be in your best interests not to attend, seeing as you two disappeared during the Christmas party."

Alek's face flushed and he tried his best to focus on the patterns of the carpet rather than Volger's face.

(Though of course, sneaking away during the Christmas party had been _more _than worth Volger's disapproval.)

"Anyways, don't wait up. I'm afraid I'll be rather late. _Prosit Neujahr_, Your Highness."

Volger left the room, shutting the door behind him. Alek waited for a few minutes, listening for the sound of his feet padding down the hall as it grew softer and softer, then he stood up, chair scraping across the floor, and went for the door.

He could hardly contain his grin. No Volger, no Barlow, just him and Deryn alone on New Year's Eve. All he needed to was open the door and-

Locked.

God's wounds, but of course Volger had locked it. He was constantly rattling on about propriety and how a young man and a young woman (even if she looked more like a young man) should never be alone together unchaperoned. Alek chalked it all up more to his quite profound dislike of Deryn rather than any sense of etiquette. Whatever the reason, it seemed that Volger expected him to spend his first New Year's Eve outside of Austria-Hungary locked in his hotel room with no company besides a snoozing loris.

Grand.

He collapsed onto his bed and pulled Bovril onto his lap, resigned to moping the evening away. From outside, the clock in the hallway struck ten. As the heavy tolls of the clock faded away, Alek was aware of another sound- a key turning in the door's keyhole. Deryn was almost certainly locked in her own room and Volger had only left ten minutes ago, so he hadn't the slightest idea who it could be. He sat up, accidentally dumping Bovril onto the floor, and his hand reflexively jumped to his side, where his saber would hang.

_The war may be nearly over, your Serene Highness, but you still have enemies at every corner._ It had become Volger's new watchword, repeated at every possible opportunity, and Alek couldn't help but wonder if it might be true. Just to be safe, he picked up the massively hefty book of Darwin's theories that was sitting on his bedside table and hid behind his bed, ready to spring out at an attacker.

The door opened impossibly slowly and a figure stepped into the room, their face obscured by a cap pulled low over their face. They had something gripped tightly in their hand- a gun? Some sort of club? Alek leapt out from behind the bed, brandishing the book and trying to look ferocious.

Any effect that this had was utterly spoiled by the fact that the figure burst out into familiar gales of laughter, the cap falling onto the ground to reveal short blond hair.

"You _Dummkopf_," Deryn snorted. "Did you think I was an _assassin_ or something? An assassin who uses your front door? And what were you going to do with that book, read me a story until the police showed up? At least Barlow will be happy that you used her gift, although I don't think that's what she meant it for. Oh, this is just barking _rich_."

She wiped a few tears of laughter away from her eyes and sat cross-legged on his bed, placing the bottle of champagne in her hand on the blankets. Alek shoved the book underneath a pillow, feeling rather foolish.

"Anyways, your ex-princeliness, don't you want to know how I got here?"

"I suppose," Alek said, settling himself down onto the ottoman with a sigh.

"After dinner, Barlow came to my room telling me that she and the Count were off to the Society's party and that we weren't allowed to go because we snuck off during the Christmas party, which is pure clart. Then she locked me in my room, but luckily I'd managed to convince one of the chamber maids to give me copies of my key and your key just in case a few days ago. Then I just snuck down the hallway and nearly got beaten to death by you and old Darwin there. Brilliant, aye?"

"Of course." His reply came back sharper than he meant it to and Deryn frowned.

"Still miffed about me laughing at you before then? Perhaps I could…cheer you up?" She climbed off the bed and started making her way towards the ottoman, and Alek sat up a little straighter.

Well, _that _would certainly cheer him up.

"It would be- er- it would be quite nice of you." God's wounds he was stammering like an idiot.

"Well then, here you go," she said with a grin. "Think about this: at this very moment, Volger and Barlow are probably at the party dancing. Together."

Alek made a disgusted noise and Deryn erupted into hysterics.

"How was _that _supposed to cheer me up?"

Deryn shook her head.

"I don't know, but the look on your face certainly cheered _me _up. Anyways, stop sulking, Alek, and get your coat on. We're sneaking out. Volger and Barlow aren't the only ones who get to have fun on New Year's."

Perhaps it was the fact that it was well below freezing outside or the threat of Volger's anger when he returned to find him missing or just that Alek wanted to be difficult tonight, but he refused. Deryn had not been happy of course- she had practically dragged him to the door, but upon seeing the stormy look on his face, she'd simply flopped onto his bed and resorted to looking daggers at him whenever he tried to say something apologetic.

And now it was three minutes until midnight and her original annoyance had stewed for nearly two hours and turned into a cool anger. Alek sighed, turning back to watch the fireworks. He knew he had been ridiculous and moody before and now because of it Deryn was being ridiculous and moody and their first New Year's Eve together was utterly ruined.

Two minutes until midnight now and he stood up to get a better look at the crowd below. Hopefully 1915 would bring peace- both on the battlefields of Europe and on the battlefields of this hotel room with him on one side and Deryn on the other.

One minute until midnight and he resolved to return to Austria-Hungary sometime during the coming year and try to recover his mother's engagement ring. Not for anything immediate of course, but perhaps a few years from now. He'd wait long enough so that Volger wouldn't try to murder him, but if it was up to him, he'd ask her this very minute, argument be damned.

Now Alek could hear the crowd outside as they began to count down the last few seconds of the year.

"5…4…3…2…"

Before they reached 1, he felt someone wrap their arms around his neck without warning and a pair of soft, familiar lips pressed up against his.

From down below came cheering and whistles and horns, but he was hardly paying attention. He was entirely focused on kissing Deryn, which made him feel entirely as jubilant as the crowd in the streets seemed to be.

She pulled away, an apologetic smile on her face.

"Sorry about before," she said, reaching out a hand to fix his mussed hair.

"No, I'm sorry. It was silly of me. _Prosit Neujahr_, Deryn. _Ich liebe dich._"

It took Deryn a minute to work out the German in her head, but when she did, her face flushed and her grin stretched broad across her face and Alek's heart skipped a beat.

He didn't think he would ever get used to that feeling, and quite frankly, he didn't ever want to.

"Happy New Year to you too, _Dummkopf_."

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in again.

It looked like it was going to be a great year.


	14. The Beginning of the End

Alek could scarcely believe that tonight was his last night.

Tomorrow, the _Leviathan_ would reach the East Coast, would reach New York City, where Tesla's laboratory and his destiny awaited. It would be the start of a new life for him, one where he wasn't constantly being pursued or nearly killed. No more adventures, no more intrigue in the crowded, narrow streets of Istanbul or death defying escapes by airship in the Swiss Alps.

No more mad Scottish girls.

"Back to civilization," Volger had grumbled. "A welcome change."

Alek wasn't so sure.

He leaned back against his chair, folding his arms with a frown. Why couldn't everything just be _simple_?

For a half a minute, he entertained a few mad notions. Would it really be that hard to slip away unseen when the ship docked in New York? He could try harder to convince Deryn again, get her to come away with him. He could stop being the Archduke Aleksandar von Hohenberg and just be Alek.

He'd find work as a mechanic and Deryn could fly- America certainly seemed to have no shortage of female pilots. Certainly, they would be poor for a long while, but it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

It would be a new world, but it would be _their_ new world.

And maybe one day, in this new world of theirs, the great gaping gulf that had come between them since the night of the storm would knit itself back up again. After all, in America there was no royalty, no rigid ancient laws in place to stop him from marrying a commoner.

And if there was one commoner that he wouldn't mind marrying, it was Deryn Sharp.

Suddenly, Alek tumbled backwards as something hit him square in the chest, snapping him out of his reverie. He scrambled out of his chair as it tumbled onto the floor and stood up, holding the pillow that Deryn had tossed at him.

"Stop mooning, you _Dummkopf_. "

Deryn sat on her bed, arms crossed, knee propped up on a high stack of cushions.

Alek blushed, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming. And God's wounds, if Deryn had known the content of his daydreams-

His face burned even more.

"My apologies," he said, stooping to pick up the fallen chair. "I can't stop thinking about- about tomorrow."

Deryn frowned, her eyes avoiding his. She had been dodging any talk about what tomorrow would bring for the past few days.

He wondered if she knew that this was just as hard for him too, that it was making him feel just as broken on the inside.

As he moved to sit back down in his chair, Deryn cleared her throat. She shifted over on the bed, moving her knee gingerly, and patted a spot next to her.

"You might as well sit up here, you daft prince, seeing as you can't sit in a chair for more than five minutes without knocking it over."

Alek flushed again as he looked at her bed. To be sitting on a girl's bed, alone, unchaperoned- well, it was hardly decent, even if she _was_ disguised as a boy. He could practically imagine Volger's shadow suddenly darkening the doorframe as the wildcount sneered and made some biting comment about princes who fell in love with commoners.

"I- I mean, I don't feel it would be highly prop- proper. To sit on your bed. Like that. Deryn."

Deryn rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist, yanking him down onto the bed. He flopped down awkwardly, and for a brief moment, his legs were draped over hers before he quickly rearranged them.

"Quit stuttering, _Dummkopf_. We're not going to do anything _improper_."

_Not, of course_, he thought to himself as he arranged himself on her bed, _that I'd mind doing improper things_.

Oh God's wounds, this was bad.

They sat there for a long moment in silence, their shoulders and legs pressed up against each other on the narrow bed. Outside the window, night was falling as the Appalachians slipped past underneath and the _Leviathan _drew closer to the East Coast.

Without warning, Deryn leaned her head onto his shoulder, her fingers lacing tightly through his. Alek nearly began to object for decency's sake, but his protests died in his throat. It was nice, having her close like this.

_Volger be damned_, he decided, and rested his head gently on top of hers.

"I'm going to barking miss you, Alek." Deryn's voice was quiet, hardly even a whisper, and heavy with sadness.

He swallowed hard. God's wounds, this would be harder than he thought it would be.

"I'll miss you too Deryn."

Despite his best efforts, he felt a few rebellious tears in his eyes and he tried to swipe them away with his free hand before Deryn could notice.

Deryn lifted her head up off his shoulder, twisting around to face him while still keeping her hand entwined with his.

"D'you think that maybe- after the war if you could- and if I were- barking spiders, I have no idea what I'm trying to say."

But her eyes held his and Alek could feel the gap again between them, filled with unanswered questions and unreturned feelings.

Maybe now was the time to close it.

There was a crackling energy in the stuffy air of the cabin, like the tingling electricity that Alek had felt when Tesla had demonstrated his machine in the hotel in Tokyo. It fizzled low in his stomach as Deryn's eyes slowly closed and their heads began to move close together.

His eyes began to shut too as he leaned in.

Alek supposed that this had been coming ever since he had learned who she was on that awful night in the middies' mess. Maybe he hadn't known it then, his feelings too muddled by the anger and hurt and betrayal of that night, but it had certainly started- a spark that, once lighted, could not be extinguished.

And he had been denying it ever since then, especially after the kiss during the storm. He'd try to hide it, bury it down under his duties and obligations as an archduke, as the future emperor.

But it was going to have to come out, one way or another. Alek was certain that how he felt had to be scrawled across his face every time he looked at her. And the way he felt was nearly unbearable, like his heart was close to bursting in his chest.

At least, then, they'd have this before the war threw them apart.

But before their lips could meet, there were footsteps in the corridor outside and they sprang apart guiltily, Alek jumping off the bed and onto the floor.

He smoothed out his mussed hair, clearing his throat and trying to look anywhere but at Deryn.

"So. Er. Well, goodnight. I'll make sure to come see you before- well, you know."

Deryn nodded, her eyes directed at his left shoe.

"Daft prince."

Her voice was barely a murmur, and he wasn't even sure if he was meant to have heard it.

Alek slipped out the door, making sure it was shut tight behind him before sliding down the wall of the corridor to sit on the ground.

_Dummkopf_. He should've done it. He'd had the chance for the past few nights- no, for the past few weeks, and he'd been too unsure of himself, too much of a coward to take it.

Now he wasn't sure when he'd get the chance again.


	15. Shuffle Part 3

**Thank you guys all so so so much for all of the reviews- I never ever thought that one of my stories would ever break 100 reviews!**

**This was something I wrote quickly while waiting for the final episode of this season of Sherlock to download today, which explains the ridiculous angsty-ness of #4 (any Sherlock fans will know what I mean :/...) but I hope you enjoy!**

**Also, if you have requests, please leave some- I've been absolutely devoid of ideas these past few weeks and would love to see what anyone would like to read. So requests, either in the reviews or in a PM, would be super.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>1. "Woke Up New" –The Mountain Goats<strong>

The sun came in through the window in blazing fingers of light, prying his eyes open despite the fact that Alek had only slept a few hours. He blinked a few moments groggily, wondering why it was he felt so damned tired, and then, in a sudden, sickening rush, he remembered the events of last night.

The look on her face when she had realized what he was saying. The shove, hard against the wall and still aching painfully in his gut. The angry whispers in his stateroom that came from months of betrayal and deceit.

All the anger of last night had faded away to leave a dull gray sadness in its place, a heavy grief.

Because he had lost his best friend last night, lost marvelous, brave Dylan Sharp to a stranger, a girl who had fooled everyone.

And it was now, at this moment when he most needed a best friend, that he was more alone than he had ever been in his entire life.

_What do I do without you?_

* * *

><p><strong>2. "Under Pressure" –David Bowie &amp; Queen<strong>

Barking hard, the life of a soon to be emperor was. Not that Deryn Sharp knew personally.

But she could tell, could see it in Alek's face. It was in the dark circles under his eyes and in the weariness in his voice.

And every time that a knock would come on her cabin door late at night and he would slouch into her room and collapse at the foot of her bed, head buried in his hands, complaining about Tesla or Malone or Volger, she would pat him on the back and try to make jokes and do her best to hide what she was really feeling.

Because for all the jokes and comforting, she couldn't ignore the tiny voice in the back of her head, whispering that this, this throne that was waiting for him half a world away was what was keeping them apart.

She wanted so much more than just his friendship but she couldn't let the mask slip, couldn't be anything other than the supportive friend, because that was what Alek needed right now.

Just a friend.

* * *

><p><strong>3. "Attention" –The Raconteurs<strong>

For the umpteenth time that night, Alek's attention was diverted from the book in his lap as Dylan's fork flashed into view, stabbing down onto one of his potatoes and popping it into his own mouth before Alek had time to raise his voice in protest.

"You know, maybe if you put half as much effort into fencing as you did stealing my potatoes, you could beat me by now."

Dylan swallowed, grinning innocently.

"I don't have any idea what you're getting at, you daft prince."

"I can see right through you, you know," he said, not bothering to look up from his book. "You're a terrible liar. You couldn't keep a secret for your life."

For whatever reason, this made Dylan's face contort, his lips pressing together and his eyes darting nervously from his hands to Alek to back to his hands.

"Believe me, I'm better at keeping secrets than you know," he said, his voice soft.

Alek rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you are, Dylan."

"Alek…"

Dylan's voice had that same faraway quality that it had had that night before Alek had escaped to Istanbul and he couldn't help but wonder if now would be the moment if he'd finally get to learn Dylan's mysterious secret.

He scooted his chair forward, eyes locked on Dylan.

"Yes, Dylan?"

Dylan swallowed hard, as if bracing himself for what was to come and then, before Alek could react, his bony hand shot across the table, snatching up the last of Alek's potatoes.

"Thanks for the potatoes, _Dummkopf_."

* * *

><p><strong>4. "Fix You" –Coldplay<strong>

The thing about grief that they never told you was that it was never really _over_. True, time might dull the sting, leave the wound scabbed over, but it was still there, a crack, a dam threatening at any minute to burst.

Now, it seemed, was one of those times.

He woke up in the middle of the night from some already forgotten nightmare, gasping for air, the cold, hollow feeling in his chest just as present as it had been during all those nights alone on watch as they inched closer and closer to Switzerland in the Stormwalker.

Normally when this happened, all he needed to do was to let one sob loose. It would wake her up almost instantly and he would feel her arms around him, callused hands entwined with his.

But this time there was nothing, because this wasn't grief for his parents. This wasn't the grief he had felt at fifteen.

This was grief for her, for the empty side of the bed that would never be filled again, for the airman's boots that still sat by the door that he couldn't bear to put away, for the uncontainable laugh that he swore he could still hear sometimes.

But he wouldn't hear that laugh again and he knew it. She wasn't coming back.

There was no one here to fix him.

* * *

><p><strong>5. "Constellations" –Jack Johnson<strong>

"Alek."

There was a gentle shove to his shoulder and he closed his eyes tighter.

_This is a dream, you're only dreaming this, go back to sleep, just let me go back to-_

"Alek. Alek wake up."

The shove turned into a punch and he groaned, rolling over onto his side.

"Deryn, what do you _want_? It's three in the morning."

"_Exactly_." She was already out of bed, dressing gown over her pajamas, eyes bright, hair sticking up at all angles. Their bedroom was colder than usual and he noticed that the window was opened.

"Oh no. We are not going off on some adventure."

She rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of bed.

"Believe me, _Dummkopf_, you'll like this one."

A few minutes later, she had gotten him out of the window (and he was only slightly ashamed to say that he had not been able to look down without feeling dizzy, any traces of air sense having fled long ago) and up onto the roof where they lay flat on their backs staring at the stars.

"See that one?" she said, pointing at a cluster of stars. "That's Orion, the Hunter."

"Ah," he said, pretending that he could make out a hunter- like shape. He couldn't of course, but that might've been due to the fact that he was more focused on the profile of Deryn's face and the feeling of his hand around hers rather than the night sky.

"And right there, those are the Pleiades sisters. My da always used to tell me how the Greeks would tell stories about them, that Orion was so madly in love with the Pleiades that he's up there for eternity, chasing them across the sky."

"Well," said Alek, propping himself up on one elbow so that he could look at Deryn. "I certainly admire his dedication."

She grinned, leaning upwards to meet him.

"Don't worry, _Dummkopf_. I don't expect you to chase me across the stars for thousands of years. It would be bloody tiring for the both of us."

"Good," was what Alek was about to say before he was cut off by the sudden, soft pressure of Deryn's mouth against his.

He decided that he quite liked star-gazing.


	16. Reception

**For schaferdramaqueen who requested to see Volger and Jaspert meeting. I guess this could be seen as a sequel to "The Best Laid Plans"/Chapter 5?**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Volger had nearly managed to slip out of the Zoological Society's banquet hall unnoticed, newspaper in one hand, Champagne flute in the other, when Nora stepped in front of his path.<p>

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked, crossing her arms. Her tone was light, but her eyes were steely.

"Library," he said gruffly, trying to push past her. "I've had enough of this damned reception and I've already said my congratulations to the newlyweds."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ernst," Nora replied, her tone all too cheerful as she grabbed hold of his arm and steered him back towards the heart of the party. "It's not every day that your former ward gets married. Alek would never forgive you if you snuck away from his own reception. Besides, you haven't even met any of Deryn's family yet."

Volger was about to explain that he had made a concentrated effort to avoid any of the new Mrs. Hohenberg's family in the event that they were anything at all like her when Nora suddenly turned, nearly pushing him into someone.

"Ah, just the man I was looking for," she said, holding out a hand for a tall, blond man to kiss. "Jaspert Sharp, may I introduce you to Wildcount Ernst Volger, Aleksandar's former guardian. Ernst, this is Jaspert Sharp, Miss Sharp's- or should I say, Mrs. Hohenberg's, older brother. I'll leave you two to chat."

With that Nora was off, leaving the two men staring pointedly over each other's shoulder.

He realized now that he had already seen Jaspert Sharp earlier that day, as one of Alek's groomsmen at the ceremony that morning. He was tall and lanky, with the same fair hair and narrow features of his sister. In fact, looking at his face was uncomfortably reminiscent of the Sharp girl's disguise all those years ago.

Jaspert's voice suddenly cut into Volger's thoughts.

"Just letting you know, Clanker," he said, tone deceptively casual, jovial even, as he cracked his knuckles in a rather threatening manner. "If that little prince of yours so much as puts one toe out of line with my sister, then rest assured, I'll make sure that the both of you wish you'd never left Germany."

"Austria," Volger corrected automatically. "And just letting you know," he continued, mimicking Jaspert's words. "If that sister of yours breaks that poor boy's heart, then rest assured, I'll make life _very _unpleasant for you both."

He gave Jaspert a cold, thin smile which was met with a smirk and more knuckle-cracking.

After a long moment, Volger dropped his eyes away and Jaspert turned sharply on one heel and walked away.

As Volger slipped into the crowd to find Nora, he decided that out of the few Sharps he'd had the misfortune to meet, Jaspert was his grudging favorite. The lad might have been as intelligent and cultured as an ox, but he knew how to stand his ground. And loyal too, it seemed- he had heard all too many times from Alek how Jaspert had assisted his sister in her deception.

Tenacious, loyal, and unafraid of threatening others to get his way?

Volger had definitely found his favorite Sharp.


	17. Departure

**For Second Daughter of Eve, who requested Alek and Deryn in the modern day. I was thinking about how incredibly dependent on chance Alek & Deryn meeting was and that sort of inspired this I guess? I don't really know, but this is a two parter, so the next one should be up soon-ish. Also, I'm taking requests again, so leaving any in the reviews/in a PM would be lovely. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>He hardly even catches a glimpse of her from across the crowded airport terminal, but it's enough to burn her image into his mind.<p>

He nearly mistakes her for a boy with her long, lanky frame and cropped blond hair. But what boy has eyes that blue or a smile that bright?

She tips her head back with laughter at a joke that he can't hear and his heart stutters rapid machine gun fire. He wants to run across the terminal to her, ask her where her flight is bound, slip his hand into hers and somehow get her phone number, email address, _something_.

But before he can do anything, there's a sharp tug at his wrist pulling him towards their gate.

"Come on, Aleksandar, the flight to Zurich takes off in ten minutes and I don't want to spend any more time lingering in Austria than we have to. The people who killed your parents are still out there, and believe me, they're looking for you."

He lets himself get pulled away by his tutor, absentmindedly handing his boarding pass to the attendant. Before he disappears down the gate, he glances over his shoulder one last time, eyes searching through the packed terminal.

But he doesn't see her face in the crowds and he curses his luck at his missed opportunity.

With his world feeling just a little grayer, he boards the plane.


	18. Arrival

**Second part of "Departure". Enjoy!**

Of course she misses her bloody flight being called. She would've missed the flight itself too, had a businessman rushing to reach his gate not spilled his coffee all over her shirt, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She scans the rows of the plane as she wrings coffee out of her shirt, already packed with people. _17E, 17E, blisters, where is 17E? _

Finally she finds her seat, groaning internally when she sees she's behind a set of squirming toddlers. She can practically _feel _their wee feet kicking her seat for hours on end.

She opens up the overhead compartment to tuck her backpack away. The zipper snags, opening the bag up a bit, and from inside the bag she sees a flash of bright metal on a sky blue ribbon pinned to her jacket. Her father's medal.

She bites her lip, closes the bag and slams the door of the compartment a bit too hard. It's been nearly two years and the grief still resurfaces sometimes in sudden waves that threaten to drag her under, take her back to the dark days right after he had died.

She flops down in the aisle seat, fiddling with her iPod as the flight attendant rattles on about oxygen masks at the front of the plane. In the window seat is an older man who's frowning over a thick stack of paperwork. Next to her is a boy her own age, who's staring at the front page of a newspaper intently, as if it holds the answer to some great mystery.

She sneaks a look at the headline he's focused on. The words stretch across the top in stark black letters: "AUSTRIAN POLITICIAN AND WIFE ASSASSINATED".

Suddenly, she feels eyes on her and she realizes that she's been caught peeking. Her face flushes as she looked up from the paper to find the boy looking at her.

He's handsome, with thick reddish hair and ears a bit too big for his face, but his eyes are sad and tired. She knows the look in those eyes, the look of someone who's lost someone, someone who's covering up the hollow grief that they can feel rattling around inside their chest. She knows it because she's seen that same look when she looks into the mirror.

"I'm Alek," he says, holding out a hand to shake.

"Deryn," she says with half a smile. His hand is soft and uncalloused, but it's warm and firm around her own.

He smiles and suddenly the sadness and tiredness slips out of his eyes just a little bit.

She promises herself that she'll make him smile like that again.

* * *

><p>When the plane touches down in Switzerland, the other passengers start standing up, rummaging around for carry-on bags and stretching. She's still deep in conversation with Alek, not even noticing people milling off the plane until the older man in the window seat clears his throat loudly, elbowing Alek sharply in the ribs.<p>

Alek reaches for her hand again like he did before and she lets him take it.

This time he doesn't let go.


	19. Hand in Hand

**For Jazz, who requested a chapter in which Alek contemplates Deryn's hands. Also, I'm still taking requests in the reviews/PMs, so feel free to leave some!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Deryn had forgotten her gloves again, and he knew it too, because she slipped one freezing hand into the pocket of his coat, intertwining her icy bare fingers with his gloved ones.<p>

Alek gave her hand a squeeze, running his thumb idly along her ridge of knuckles.

Girls' hands were supposed to be soft and pale, unmarred by calluses or blisters or nicks. Deryn's hands were nothing like that. They were rough and red and chapped, covered with hard calluses, her left palm sporting a ropy scar slashing diagonally across it from a fumble with her rigging knife.

They were the complete opposite of his own, which were still smooth save for a few calluses on his fingers from years of fencing. Deryn had rough hands, airman's hands.

Not exactly ladylike, but they were Deryn's, and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

He lifted their entwined hands out of his pocket, brushing her hand quickly with his lips. Deryn laughed, her breath a puff of white in the London winter air.

They kept their hands wrapped together all the way home.


	20. Long Distance

**I got asked a lot to write a continuation of modern day Alek and Deryn, so this is it.**** As usual, still taking requests.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

><p>It's not easy, being apart.<p>

She's at flight school in Glasgow; he's still in hiding in Switzerland. They're half a world apart, it feels like.

The worst times sneak up on them unexpectedly: the mornings when he rolls over to find the other half of his bed empty, the times when she sees a newspaper article about the war his parents' murders have caused and she wonders if he is grieving, if there is anyone there to hold his hand as he bites back tears.

But then there are the good times too: when they talk on the phone and she speaks to him in halting, broken German that he knows she learned just for him or when she gets a letter in the post with his neat, careful handwriting. Those are the times it feels that maybe half a world isn't so far at all.

And then there are the best times: when his phone buzzes with a picture from her showing her airline ticket to Switzerland or when she comes through the gate in Zurich to see him waiting for her, alone and nervous and unable to contain a stupidly massive grin.

Those are the times that make it all worthwhile.


	21. Brotherly Love

**I have a few things already written that I'll upload over the next few weeks, including all the requests, and then afterwards, since so many people seem to want something longer, I have plans for either one very long chapter or something multi-chapter.**

**Also, I'm still open for requests, as always. And reviews are always welcome :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>There were footsteps in the hallway.<p>

Alek's world had narrowed down to the feeling of Deryn's lips against his and the way her fingers were tangled in his hair. He opened his eyes quickly, glancing towards the half closed door, and then shut them again when he saw no one. Deryn saw him looking away and she pulled him back in by the collar of his shirt.

There were footsteps again, closer this time, but softer, as if whoever was outside was trying to sneak up on them.

"Deryn," he said, his voice muffled, his lips still on hers. When she didn't respond, he pulled away. "Deryn, there's definitely someone out there." He kept his voice a whisper, not wanting to alert whoever was standing outside the door that he had noticed their presence.

Deryn rolled her eyes but crept towards the door.

"I swear, you daft prince, if I go out there and that hallway's empty…"

She poked her head around the doorframe and then, without warning, leapt into the hall.

From outside, Alek could hear her cursing and then her angry stomps as she came back into the room, dragging someone behind her, her hand wrapped in a vice around his shoulder.

The man was tall and scowling, with uncombed tufts of sandy hair and bright eyes.

"You barking sod," Deryn muttered, aiming a kick at the man's shins. "Alek, may I present my bloody _idiot _of a brother, Jaspert Sharp. Jaspert, this is Aleksandar von Hohenberg, who I was _not _doing anything inappropriate with, despite your suspicions, you barking sneak."

She tried to kick him again, but Jaspert twisted out of her grasp.

So he'd been listening at the door because he thought that they'd been…oh. _Oh._ Alek flushed.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, holding out a hand and trying to keep his embarrassment out of his voice. He was all too aware of his tousled hair and how Deryn's shirt had two buttons undone. From the way that he narrowed his eyes as he shook Alek's hand, Jaspert was aware of it too.

"Pleasure's all mine," he said, shaking Alek's hand with a bone crushing grip. Now that they were up close, Alek could see the resemblance to Deryn; they had the same narrow face and wiry build.

The three of them stared at their feet for a long moment, each intensely uncomfortable with the situation.

"Well, I'd best be off," Jaspert said, stretching extravagantly and starting for the door. "Just a piece of parting advice, Clanker: Deryn isn't the only one in this family who knows how to throw a proper punch. Keep that in mind while you're courting my sister."

He grinned and cracked his knuckles.

Deryn started for him, murder in her eyes.

"Jaspert Sharp, you're terrible! Just bloody atrocious!"

He jumped away from her swinging fists and ducked out of the room. As he walked away, he began whistling something that sounded somehow both cheerful and menacing at the same time, at least to Alek's ears.

Alek let out a long breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

Deryn smiled apologetically, crossing the room to take his hand.

"Didn't scare you off, I hope?"

"What? No, no of course not. Never."

Her smile widened into a grin that threatened to overtake her face, and Alek's heart skipped a beat.

"Good. But if you think he's bad, wait until you meet my mum."


	22. Shuffle Part 4

"**I Stand Corrected" –Vampire Weekend**

He stands outside their bedroom, tapping on the door softly with the back of his knuckles, hoping that at any second it will swing open to reveal his forgiving wife.

"Deryn? Deryn, _liebling_, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, to be honest, but I'm sorry."

From behind the door, he hears something expensive sounding hit the wall and shatter, accompanied by grumbling that sounds suspiciously like, "Bloody Clanker bastard…wish we'd never crashed on that bloody glacier."

He sighs. It's going to be a long night.

**2. "My City of Ruins" –Bruce Springsteen**

She watches Alek's face carefully as they near his childhood estate, or what remains of it, at least. The war has not been kind to Konopischt and the stately buildings in the photographs he showed her are now reduced to a pile of rubble.

Alek's face is a cold mask, but she sees his lip quiver.

They reach the front of the building. This part still stands, but everything behind it is a ruin.

"It's all gone," he says. His voice sounds like a lost child's, and it cracks on the last syllable.

He unravels.

She lets him sob into her shoulder, stroking his hair and making soft _shh_-ing noises.

Soon, she thinks to herself, the forest will take back the ruin, leaving behind no trace of Konopischt or the family who lived here save for a few stones.

Like Alek said, it's all gone.

**3. "Somewhere Only We Know" –Keane**

Alek finds Dylan sitting in their spot in the space underneath the navigation room. The other boy has his back to him, but Alek can tell by the way he quickly swipes at his face when he hears Alek approach that he's been crying.

"Your father?" he asks, sliding down next to him.

Dylan nods.

"Aye," he says, his voice thick with tears.

Alek puts his arm around his shoulders.

He doesn't know how long they sit that way- until his eyes grow heavy with sleep, until the sun breaks through the clouds.

Until Dylan's whole.

**4. "Married Life" –**_**Up **_**Soundtrack**

They're sitting in their chairs in front of the fireplace, Deryn balancing her book on aeronautic history between her thumb and index finger, Alek engrossed in his newspaper, their free hands linked together in the space between them.

There will be change and upheaval to come, but not all bad. Alek's new job at the embassy starts soon and Deryn's stomach is just beginning to swell, Alek swearing he can feel a kick.

But it's peaceful now, a Sunday afternoon in midwinter with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the rustle of pages turning to break the quiet.

Deryn breathes out and Alek breathes in.

**5. "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall" –Coldplay**

Deryn stared suspiciously at the radio in the corner of the room. Barking huge, it was, and a waste of money.

"And…done," Alek said, looking up from the mess of wires and fiddly mechanical parts. You could hire people to install it for you, but Alek had insisted on doing it himself, claiming that it would be cheaper.

Secretly, Deryn suspected that he just wanted to fiddle around with machines again.

He twirled the dials until a crackling hint of jazz came out. Without warning, he started snapping his fingers and trying to imitate some of the dances they'd seen in some of the new dance halls in London.

Deryn rolled her eyes. She loved her fiancée, but he was a barking _awful _dancer.

She reached up to wipe a smear of mechanical grease off his cheek and he grabbed her hand giving her a whirl, dancing with her around the room, ducking her low at one point. This maneuver didn't work out as well as he had planned, and they landed in a laughing, tangled up heap on the floor.

He was a _Dummkopf_, but blisters, she loved him.


	23. Shuffle Part 5

**1. "God Only Knows" –The Beach Boys**

"You know that you wouldn't last a day without me."

The comment is casual, dropped into the middle of the quiet of their early morning walk but the truth of it still hits Alek, a warm weight in his stomach.

He stops, considers it, and then rubs his thumb over Deryn's wrist where their hands are entwined together in a slow, careful circle.

"Of course not, _liebe_. And to be honest, I wouldn't really want to."

And it's the truth.

**2. "Postcards From Far Away" –Coldplay**

The letters come in from all across the globe, covered with postmarks from Rome and Sydney and Buenos Aires and San Francisco.

She slips them all into an old shoebox, tucks them away into the bottom drawer of her desk where they'll stay protected and treasured and safe.

She knows that what he's doing is important, that diplomatic missions like his are what bring peace to a war-torn world, but that doesn't change the fact that he's not there, at home with her. It doesn't change the fact that all she has of him right now are postcards.

She ends every letter she writes to him with _Come home, you daft prince._

**3. "Not Myself" –John Mayer**

Even after they'd begun to speak again, after the rift between them that had opened up on that night had been stitched up a bit, there was still tension.

Neither of them ever spoke of it, but Deryn could see it in the way that Alek looked at her sometimes, as if he was expecting to see someone else, as if she were a stranger.

And she wondered if he'd ever trust her the same way again, if there was some ragged split between Dylan and Deryn.

She wonders if he can ever accept her as herself.

**4. "Watching You Watching Him" –Eric Hutchinson**

One minute Deryn's hand is entangled with his as they're making their way down the London streets; the next it's slipped out as Deryn runs ahead, calling out to someone several feet ahead of them.

"Old school mate from Glasgow," she shouts over her shoulder as she weaves through the crowded street.

He watches as she and the tall (taller than him and better looking too, he realizes with a slightly sick feeling) man embrace. Deryn is chattering away to him animatedly and her friend's watching her with a look in his eye that makes Alek want to grab her by the hand so that the other man knows that she is spoken for.

After a minute or two longer, they say their goodbyes and Deryn makes her way back towards Alek.

"You weren't jealous, were you?" Her lips are very close to his ear and for a minute, the sensation distracts him, but there's an undercurrent of amusement in her tone and he bristles.

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous."

"Not even a wee bit?"

He just glares at her in response.

"Nothing to be jealous of, _Dummkopf_. I'd choose you again any day."


End file.
